Anakin's Thoughts
by Mirnava
Summary: The innermost thoughts and feelings of The Hero With No Fear, full of sadness, regrets, and wishes for the future. I couldn't help but write some, my apologies for heartstabbing feels. Set in the Clone Wars Era, mostly. Prompts welcome.
1. Should I Stay?

Should I stay? Or should I go? I want what's best for Padmé, what's best for the child. I want to protect them from this life of fear, of pain, of turmoil.

But the Jedi Order is all I've ever known.

That's not exactly true. I've known the life of a slave. But I don't like to remember it, so I quash that memory when I can, only keeping the precious ones of my mother laughing. So, in effect, the Order is all I've known. Which makes leaving harder.

I'm sure I could make it in the galaxy - I'm pretty resourceful. I'm not worried about that. But the life of politics, of the Senate is all that Padmé has known. She had a childhood, though, it's true, before ascending the throne. So she'll probably know how to raise a child, at least. So maybe we could do it. Go back to Naboo, be a real family without ties to the war.

Could we do it?

Could we leave this life behind?


	2. A Single Tear

A single tear escapes through the plaster mask I wear almost all the time. One single, solitary drop of salt water, fat with all the regrets of my life.

Failing my mother.

Failing Obi-Wan again and again as his student.

Failing the Prophecy, and with it, all the Jedi.

Failing the people of the Republic.

Failing to live up to the titles I've been given.

The Hero With No Fear? I'm the furthest thing. I'm The Coward Drenched in Fear. Fear that I'll never amount. Fear that I'll let everyone down. Fear that Padmé-

And so one tear escapes, laying out all of these thoughts as it rolls down my mask's cheek. I let it stay for a moment, my head hung low.

"Master Skywalker?" a little Togruta Padawan approaches me timidly. She reminds me of Ahsoka. Another regret of mine, that I failed her as a teacher. I dash away the tear and straighten my mask before I turn around.

"Yes, Padawan?"

"I don't understand this holo, Master. It's about fighter stabilizers, and Madame Nu said you could help me?" Her voice trailed off at the end, as if she were afraid to ask me. But I smile at her.

"Of course I can," I reply. I can help her with this, at least.


	3. Why I Never Say

"Why do you never say anything?" comes the all-too-familiar sigh. I get it from just about everyone, but most often from you as you sit next to me in the Halls of Healing. "Why?" Isn't it obvious? If I say anything, mention just a tiny thing, you'll pull me away from my job. You'll drag me to whatever med centre is around and dump me there, expecting me to stay there while you run back into battle. So in order to complete my missions, I've had to learn pretty quickly to keep things to myself.

You just don't get it, do you? So what if the mission is not the most important? _Mine_ is. _Mine_ is to keep you safe, to make sure you come back safe and whole, because if you didn't, I wouldn't know what to do. But I can't do that from the med centre. I have to be on my feet and in the field with you.

Sometimes injury is unavoidable. Sometimes, no matter what you try or how good your plans are, someone's going to get hurt. If I have my say, it's not going to be you. I'd go crazy thinking about how, if I'd done things differently, you could have been fine. So I prefer when I get hurt to when you do.

Plus, your bedside manner is much better than mine.

That's why I never say.


	4. Stick to the Plan

Stick to the plan – don't deviate at all. Don't show emotion. Don't show weakness. Keep the mask in place.

Don't show that they hurt you.

They don't mean to, I know, but they continuously do. Assuming that I'm less than I need to be, thinking that I can't handle myself and that I need a guardian, a protector. I'm not saying that I don't like Obi-Wan coming along with me on missions; quite the opposite. But sometimes – most of the time – it feels that I don't have a choice in the matter and the Council is making the decision for me. But I'm trying to prove to them that I am worth trusting, that I'm able to handle anything that comes my way.

And so I bow once again, keeping my mouth shut. Comments are made at my expense about how I can't keep quiet and that any thought that crosses my mind comes out of my mouth. But they don't know the half of it. They don't recognize the times I hold my thoughts inside, times like now.

And if my mask stays whole, they will never have a clue.


	5. Some Days

Some days, he feels exposed. Like a nerve. His mask slips, falls, shatters on the floor. He bends down, trying to put the pieces back together, but there are too many and they're too small. He sweeps them into his hand, depositing them in his pocket. He tries to go about his day, but he feels wrong. He feels like a stranger to the Temple, unwelcome in his own home. His grasp of the Force is different, weaker. His Force Signature might be off, too, for all he knows. He just feels wrong.

He waits for the others – someone, anyone – to stop him in the halls, to confront him. To ask what he's doing there, if they can be of any help in locating who or what he is in search of. He scoffs to himself: How could any other Jedi help him find that which he seeks if he, himself doesn't know what it is? Peace, maybe. Balance.

Love.

He waits for the Council to leap upon its chance to see him gone, or at the very least, see him at his worst and lock that away as evidence for the future, if they ever doubt their original instincts that he was dangerous.

He walks around, his mask growing ever heavier in his pocket as he struggles to pretend that nothing is wrong.

As the day finally ends, he puts the pieces of his mask on the table in his quarters. The next morning, he wakes to find it whole again, and he slips it back on before he exits his room. But he knows, someday, he will wake up to find not a mask made whole again, but a pile of dust instead.


End file.
